Dominoes
by erf10722
Summary: When Johnny and Dally die, the whole gang takes it hard. It didn't happen as Pony said in his theme. Especially me: unfeeling, unbidden, uncaring Darry. This is the story of why I got that way...and no one can blame me...except myself.
1. Chapter 1

**This is gonna be a depressing story...just warning you.**

I think my tear ducts are permanently dried up. This must be an unexplained medical phenomenon because, the last time I used them was when I was about 6 years old.

I envy my brothers, Soda and Ponyboy as tears flow down their faces in torrents. We were at Dally and Johnny's funeral. Even Tim didn't have the usual smirk that always played across his face.

Two-Bit is bawling, his sobs punctuating the preachers voice as he talks about "spirt and the holy water..." none of it mattered. None of it explained Dally and Johnny as people.

Just as the sermon that had been spoken at his parents funeral didn't show who they were.

You couldn't capture in an hour the entire personality of a person. Especially not Johnny or Dally.

How would you explain Dally's love for Johnny? How could you ever summarize the way he laughed and smiled, a smile reserved only for the gang.

And Johnny, those sweet puppy dog eyes. The way he would look up at Pony and could make anyone feel better, no matter how in the dumps they were.

And a miracle happened. I felt a brief prickling sensation behind his eyelids. relief flooded through me, and then the prickling stopped, not even strong enough to produce one tear.

Numbly, I stumbled outside with the rest of the gang, who were all clinging to each other. I kept my distance. I knew that if Pony or Soda needed comfort, they would turn to each other. Steve would turn to his girls, and Two-Bit to alcohol.

And suddenly, I felt an insurmountable pain in my heart. I was not needed.

Sure, I was needed to pay the bills, to drive Pony and Soda places, to provide a place for Two-Bit and Steve to crash for the night, but not in the way the rest of the gang needed each other.

The moment passed as I shook my head.

"Pony, Soda, Two, Steve, lets go home." I felt like a kindergarten teacher, herding my friends to the car.

When we arrived at home, everyone collapsed on the couch.

"I can't take it!" Pony said, finally breaking the silence. The others looked dully at him, not even bothering to reassure him. after another few minutes of unbearably silence, I decided to console him.

Pulling him on to my lap, I hugged him tight and let him cry onto my shoulder until my shirt was soaked and his sobs had subsided to slight snores.

The rest of my family left after I put Pony to bed. I had insisted Two-Bit and Steve take my room.

"Try to get some sleep." Two-Bit made a slight choking sound, that might have been an attempt at a laugh.

When the others had gone to bed, I walked to the kitchen, to do the neglected dishes.

Halfway to the sink, I collapsed, my body racked with shudders as the horrible truth hit me like a wall.

Johnny and Dally would never walk through that door again.

The man forever remembered as a juvenile delinquent would never tackle me as I ran down the field with the football.

Johnny, the one person who ever saw me as a human being, would never ask me "How are you holding up?" again.

The shivering continued, and I drifted off to an uneasy sleep, my dreams haunted with my family crying over Johnny and Dally's dead body, providing no escape from the reality that is life.

* * *

I knew Ponyboy meant it when he said he couldn't take it anymore. His grades dropped, he stopped talking, to even Soda.

Two-Bit had indeed turned to alcohal. Every night at about 5:00 he would walk in proudly on a buzz he had bee wasting his money on all day. He would start out really rowdy, and I felt like I was taking care of an overenthusiastic puppy.

We let him out into the back yard to blow off steam, and then we brought him inside when his cryings for Dally and Johnny became too loud and annoying to handle. Than one of us would have to put him to sleep with yet another bottle of beer and then deal with an incredibly annoying and moody Two-Bit the next day, and the cycle would repeat.

Not like I had much help with anything. Pony was acting rebellious and grief stricken, Soda was too busy being anti-social, Steve was too busy getting into any kind of trouble he could without actually crossing the line, and Two-Bit was too drunk to help.

Soda had even stopped going to work, relying on me to pay for his food clothes, and general well being.

But when I was about to fall asleep each night, I thanked god for my family. What would I do without them?

But for the time being the question was really "What would I do with them?"


	2. Chapter 2

**rated T for depressingness... note to readers: authors do not like to write when no one comments...98% of all writers stop writing on fanfic cuz they think nobody likes them...show your appreciation. (85% of all statistics are made up on the spot:))**

I don't own the outsiders

* * *

My days had become as bleak as the weather outside, which had maintained an overcast gray since the day of the deaths.

I, on the other hand, got up, went to work for both me and Soda, came home to find Pony crying into his pillow and comforted him for a while.

If one good thing could be said about this whole ordeal, it was how close Pony and I had gotten. All of us, really.

Two-Bit wasn't drunk quite as often, not since about a week after Johnny and Dally.

* * *

I had fallen asleep in the recliner, as I often did, too tired to climb the stair up to my bed, let alone take off my clothes or wash the grime from my hands.

The only problem with this way of falling asleep was Two-Bit.

Every night he would come in, whining up a storm, drunk as a dog.

This night, the only exception was that I was not quite tired enough to not care about the racket, and Two-Bit was not quite drunk enough to leave me alone.

"Dare, you got any beer? Buck kicked me out." hoping he would leave me alone, I feigned sleeping.

This did not deter him at all however, and he simply walked over to me, screaming the same question in my ear until I was forced to acknowledge his presence.

"What the hell Two-Bit?"

"What the hell Darry, why weren't you answering me?"

"Cuz I couldn't give shit about your problems!" For some reason, although Two-Bit had been annoyingly disabled by alcohol for almost the entire time Darry had known him, this need for being drunk was the last straw.

"Yeah! No one gives shit about my problems! It's always "is poor Pony alright?" or "is itty bitty Soda alright after his little girlfriend moved to Florida?'"

I could smell the little alcohol that Two-Bit had managed to procure on his breath, and I felt myself gag slightly. After my sudden burst of energy, I didn't have the energy to fight anymore.

"There's no beer left. You drank it all. Go home Two-Bit." Two-Bit glared at me. the next thing I felt was pain on my cheek. The bastard had punched me!

"Ow! Two-Bit, what the hell was the for?" Two-Bit continued to glare at me in a ferocious way.

"You don't care about me! You don't even care enough about me to give ten dollars to buy some beer!" I felt adrenaline surge through me. With difficulty (due to my sore body) I got out of the recliner, towering above the 18 year old.

"No Two-Bit! You ain't going down to the store with the money I need to keep my family alive so you can buy more alcohol. I ain't gonna let ya!"

"Well that just goes to show don't it? You just proving my point!" Two-Bit smiled drunkenly up at me triumphantly.

"You think I don't care about you? If I didn't care about you, I would lock my doors at night so you couldn't come in a 2 o'clock, wakin' up my kid brothers and scaring them half to death! If I didn't give a damn, I wouldn't be working 3 jobs so I can keep the gang fed! I care about you more than you have ever cared about anything in your life, and that's because your too selfish to give a hoot about anyone but yourself!"

Another blow hit my jaw, this one harder than the last. "That's because I cared about Johnny and Dally! Unlike you! You didn't even shed a tear about Johnny and Dally, and that just shows how much you care! I bet if your own brother died you wouldn't cry!"

"No! I wouldn't because I would have to be strong for my other brother! That's how much I care! Do you know how much I want to cry? I want to break down like everyone else already has, but if I did, what would become of everyone? What would happen to you _Keith Mathews _if I wasn't here any longer to supply your beer and talk to you when your down?"

This is when Two-Bit completely confirmed my unvoice worries about not being wanted or needed. "I would get by Darry. I have my own family to support my drinkin' and Soda's better at talkin' anyway."

I blinked and I felt the tell tale signs of tears, but I physically couldn't let them fall.

"Ok." My voice was deadly calm, and Two-Bit shied away, obviously expecting a blow. "Ok Two-Bit. Here's a few dollars." I shoved him some crumpled up dollar bills that I had been planning to buy Pony a new notebook for school with.

"Good night Two-Bit." I was too tired to yell, and too tired to hear the disgusting things Two-Bit surely had planned to say about me.

I walked painfully up the stairs, leaving a stunned, young looking boy at the bottom. The only difference in his composure was the smug grin wiped off his face.

* * *

Although this conversation had left me feeling empty inside for the next couple of weeks, my life had seen a definite improvement since then.

I was sure Two-Bit still drank, but when he did, he never came by the house. We had exchanged barely more than pleasantries since that day, but he was helping out with the kids and for this I was thankful. And, what is more, I found the dollar bills on the counter the next morning, not a penny of them spent.

I didn't know if I was angry at Two-Bit or not, but I pushed it to the back of my mind. He barely ever slept the night, and only ever hung out with Soda, Pony, and Steve, so I didn't have much time to dwell on this.

Infact, the next time I saw him on the couch was almost a full month after the argument. during this time, Pony's grades had improved in school and Soda had gone back to work. Life had improved for me, as I was even able to drop one of his jobs.

One morning, I came down to the living room at about 4:00 in the morning to get ready for my first job. A huddled lump of a person lay on the couch, and for a blissful moment, I thought it was Johnny, but then reality swept onto him like a rain storm.

"Hey Sodapop." A voice said groggily from the couch. "Soda, could you get me a glass of water? 'feeling kinda sick."

I grabbed a glass of water for Two-Bit, not bothering to disadule his fantasy that I was Soda. When the form heard the glass clink onto the coffee table, the heap of blankets stirred.

Two-Bit's face popped out of the mountain of blankets and he blinked blearily up at me. "Oh...uh..hey Darry."

I smiled down at him distractedly, already moving to prepare breakfast for myself in the kitchen. "You cold Two-Bit?"

"Yeah. Freezing." Two-Bit took a sip of water then heaved his legs over the side of the couch. He looked unstable on his feet, and his face paled as he stood.

"Listen Darry-" He said, walking over to me, but before he could finish whatever he was going to say, he fell.

"Two-Bit?" I asked cautiously. "Two-Bit, did you trip or something? You ok?" I knelt down next to him and nitcied that his eyes were closed.

He was unconscious.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey! just had a good idea for this story. Please review...I need to know if you guys even like this story!**

**I do not own The Outsiders**

* * *

"Two-Bit! Holy Shit! Are you ok?" I shook Two-Bit roughly (something Pony always complained about)

He didn't open his eyes. Losing all logic, I screamed. Soda, Pony, and Steve practically tumbled down the stairs to see what all the commotion was about.

"Darry what the- Oh my goodness! Two-Bit!" Soda ran to the phone, but before he could dial 9-11, two-Bit stirred.

I slapped him lightly and he winced. "Ow. Darry, what was that for?"

"For scaring me! What the hell Two-Bit? Are you drunk again?" Two-Bit glared at me defensively.

"No! I just feel really...sick" the last word came out breathy, and Two-Bit started gasping for air.

"Soda!" I yelled, now really scared. "Get the car ready! Steve, help me carry him. Pony, call into my work and tell them I'm taking the day off! Go!" the gang rushed to their approved positions like little elves.

Steve actually wasn't needed. Although Two-Bit was a tall guy, he barely seemed to weigh more than 100 pounds.

When we were all settled in the car, we began speeding off towards the nearest hospital. Two-Bit was drifting in and out of consciousness, looking like he was about to puke.

The hospital looked imposing. Pony shivered looking at it. I put an arm protectively around him and smiled down comfortingly.

"Are you sure you want to go in there?"

I knew all too well Pony's fear of hospitals. He nodded, although he looked almost as pale as Two-Bit.

We practically ran inside, almost knocking over a lady with a walker. Breathing heavily, we skidded to a stop in front of the receptionist's desk.

She held up one finger and continued to talk on the phone. For a couple of minutes I waited patiently, but after 5 minutes of listening to that woman gossip, I pressed the end button on her call for her.

"Listen lady, my friend needs help! get me a doctor or a room or whatever the protocol is around here, but it's an _emergency_!"

The lady glared over her glasses at me. She barely spared a glance at Two-Bit before she said boredly "poliomyelitis."

"Excuse me?" I snapped, wondering if this was some absurd curse word.

"You heard me. Poliomyelitis."

"Yeah, I heard you but what the hell is poli-whats you call it?" She rolled her eyes at my apparent ignorance.

"Do you not watch the news?" I shook my head and she snorted softly muttering "Typical greaser." under her breath.

"Darry," Pony interrupted tugging on my sleeve.

"What!?"

"Darry, Poliomyelitis is the scientific term for the disease we call polio. If he has paralytic polio, he could be paralyzed." Pony hurried to reassure me, seeing my face fall. "But only like...3% of the population even gets that! don't worry about it!"

But I was worried. "I want a check up or whatever." The lady laughed cooly.

"Son, don't bother. If he has paralytic polio, there's no stoppin' it. If he has normal polio, he'll be better before you know it."

* * *

Over the next few weeks, I watched Two-Bit closely. The premise of my worries was his new inability to do anything. Two-Bit had always been lazy, but it looked physically painful for him to get up.

I still remember the day he fell because a.) it was christmas eve and b.) it was the worst day of my life.

Two-Bit had seemed better that day. Although lacking in his usual non-stop christmas jitters, he was able to help make cookies while sitting a top a high stool. The inside of the house was warm from the fire crackling merrily in the grate, but he still kept a blanket around his legs.

"Merry christmas!" Steve hollered from the door. I winced as he slammed it with all of his force. Soda rushed downstairs to greet his best friend, showing off their matching santa sweaters. Apparently, Steve had had no idea that Soda was planning to match him, and promptly tackled him to the floor.

Two-Bit chuckled lightly, then he went pale and turned away from the cookies, coughing hard. Steve and Soda completely forgot their wrestling match, and sprinted over to see if Two-Bit was alright.

Two-bit attempted to stand up, but immediately fell flat on his face, not able to catch himself due to his bone racking coughs.

I hurried to his side, turning a now unconscious Two-Bit over. "Two-Bit, buddy. C'mon. Wake up!" I could feel panic rising in my throat.

"Soda, call an ambulance!" Darry's hands fluttered across Two-Bits ody, wondering what there was to do. Although Darry barely touched him, Two-Bit began to moan in pain.

The ambulance seemed to take days to reach the house. When it finally did, Two-Bit's screams were so loud, neighbors were gathering outside their house, although perhaps this was due to the sirens and flashing lights.

Darry tailed the ambulance closely, never letting it out of his sight. Pony, Steve and Soda sat huddled in the back seat, leaving Darry alone in the front, only increasing his feeling of loneliness.

They waited for at least 3 hours. When the clock struck midnight Steve said bitterly "Merry Christmas ya'll." Y brothers grunted in response, but I said nothing.

I kept running the statistics over in my head. "Only 1% of the population dies from polio. Only 3% gets paralytic polio..."

"Uhh...Darrel Curtis?" I raised myself in an almost dream-like way. "You don't look old enough to be Keith's legal guardian."

I was confused. "No. I'm not I mean- uhh...I'm his brother. And I take care of him. Yeah, I'm his legal guardian, but he's over 18 so..." This was a lie. Well not the 18 part, but Darry was not Two-Bit's legal guardian. He figured Two-Bit must have a reason for lying though, so he went along with it.

"Well, I'm sorry to say that Two-Bit has quadriplegia. I'm sorry."

"What-what exactly does that mean?" The doctor stared at Darry like he was an idiot, but rectified his face into a pitiful look again.

"It means that he will most likely die. If he doesn't die, which I might add will cost an exorbitant amount of money, he will be fully paralyzed for the rest of his life. Sorry son."

The doctor didn't sound sorry, he sounded tired and uninterested.

I swallowed, my world seemed strangely hazy. I sat down hard in my chair, almost crushing Pony, who had lain across his and my chairs.

I suddenly knew how the doctor felt. I didn't have the strength to break the news gently. I wish I had, as it would have saved much pain and comforting, but instead I just said "Two-Bit is gonna die."

* * *

**_Third-person POV_**

Soda had been shocked to hear the news, as much as any one else. It seemed so unfair to him that his family had to lose one more person.

He wasn't sure if he could even go on. Actually he was sure.

Sure that he couldn't.

He stepped out into the morning sunlight on the 25 of December. Noticing something out of the ordinary, he walked towards the mailbox.

He began to laugh. He laughed so hard that he began to cry, but they were never tears of sadness.

Oh the irony.


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry I haven't updated in a while! PLEASE start reviewing! It's gonna get better!**

**I don't own the Outsiders**

* * *

This was the first sombre Christmas I could remember in the Curtis house. There was a fresh layer of snow on the ground, the first white Christmas since Pony had been born. The neighborhood was alive with kids throwing snowballs, making forts, free for the moment from the impending threat of Socs.

And yet there lay Two-Bit on the couch, pale looking and depressed. He had lost all feeling and control of his legs and arms and the polio virus was spreading towards his diaphragm. Once it got there, Two-Bit would lose the ability to breath and he would become another number in the statistics of this deadly disease.

I sat in front of a roaring fire, the un-decorated Christmas tree an imposter to my grief.

Just then, Soda came in the door, a grin on his face. I hadn't seen him grin like that, crazily and unrefined since Mom and Dad had died.

"Just got some news Darry." He brandished an envelope at me.

"Oh yeah?" I said, attempting to sound pleased and interested but failing miserably.

"Yeah. From the president. Some happy birthday greetings."

I stared blankly at him. Soda's 18th birthday had been almost 3 weeks ago, before we had known about Two-Bits inevitable young death.

"Umm..What did they say to you?"

"They said," Soda cleared his throat, still smiling insanely. "Dear Mr. Sodapop Patrick Curtis, We are pleased to inform you that you have been selected to serve your country in our war over seas with Vietnam..."

* * *

Sodapop read the letter in it's entirety, never showing a hint of fear or bitterness. When he finished he looked expectantly at me.

I still sat by the fire, but now my heart felt like ice that no flames could melt or remedy. "Soda." I barely choked out.

"What Dare? I call telling Pony by the way. Your not taking that glory from me."

"Soda! There is no glory in what that letter says, it must be a mistake...It has to be a mistake. You could still fail out of the medical examination. We could finish the war before you even get there..." I stuttered out, denying this inconceivable truth.

"Darry, do I look like I care? Hell, at least if I die, I get to die noble. More noble that Two-Bit or Mom, Dad, and Dally. Maybe even more noble than Johnny."

"Is that what this is about? Your happy about this because you think you would die noble? Why the fuck does it matter if you die noble if you never got the chance to live noble!" Than a calm overtook me, and I saw Soda become scared.

"Darry? What's wrong? What did you just think of?" Soda knew me well enough to know that when that calm washed over my face, I had an idea. A crazy, stupid, dangerous idea.

"You aren't going to Vietnam. I'm not letting you." Soda laughed at me. He must have thought 'this is the extent to his master plan?'

"Yeah, that will work. Merry Christmas Darrel."

* * *

12 hours later, I sat on a medical examiners table. They could only take one from each family. Soda could take care of Pony. If I died, it would be no loss. Pony would prefer Soda as a guardian anyway.

"So, Mr. Curtis, this is a really brave decision, to go to war. You must really love your country, to risk your life for it." The doctor said, making small talk.

"No."

"Excuse me?" The doctor said smiling. 'Surely,' she seemed to be thinking 'someone who enlisted must think the war effort a worth while cause.'

"this country sucks. Hell, not even the president loves it enough to risk his life for it. His reputation, but never his life. I'm not doing it for my country."

"Well, why did you decide to enlist? Money?" The doctor said, genuinely curious.

"No. I'm risking my life for my brothers. One in particular. Damn, he's gonna be pissed. I'm putting his noble death at risk in his eyes, not my own life."

* * *

"Darrel Shayne Curtis?" I was jerked out of my dazed thoughts by the nurses voice.

I pushed my way through the crowd of young men to the desk where she would give me my results. I grabbed the papers angrily from her, and she looked slightly appalled at my behavior.

The fact was that I didn't want to die. I didn't want to leave Soda, Pony, Steve, Two-Bit... Then of course I realized that I wouldn't be leaving Two-Bit, he would be leaving me. This stiffened my resolve to look down at my results.

Most of the paper was covered in scribbles and words that I didn't understand. I scanned down until I came to the conclusion statement. I gasped in spite of myself. Some of the men snickered, but I couldn't care less, because the world had just dropped out from under my feet.

In messy doctors handwriting that was hard to decipher were the words "_Unfit for combat. Irregular spinal alignment." _

Darry walked purposefully up to the nurse. "Miss? What the hell does "irregular spinal alignment" mean? I don't have any back pain..." But Darry trailed off. This was untrue.

"This is a very common thing sweetie." The nurse said in a chirpy voice. "It can occur because of tough manual labor. Do you have a stressful job? One that requires heavy lifting?"

Darry nodded mutely. The nurse smiled back. "Well then, you aren't going to war sweetie. Aren't you lucky?"

Darry growled at the nurse, who looked taken a back. "I have to go! I _have _to go to war! You don't understand!" The nurse looked alarmed and surprised.

"I'm sorry sir, but you are not allowed to go. You can serve your country in a different way, just by being the best that you can be." Darry felt sick, both from this bomb that was just dropped and the nurses cheery outlook on life.

"I don't give a damn about the fuckin' country! They've never done shit for me! What about my brother?" The nurse shook her head and walked away, looking insulted by Darry's language.

* * *

When Darry arrived home, everyone was gathered around the fire. Even Two-Bit was sitting up, covered in blankets.

"Where've you been? Your work called in to ask why you weren't there today?" Soda asked. "I had to tell them you were sick. They didn't sound to pleased about that. They missed muscles!" Darry gave him the death stare that made Soda shrink away slightly.

"Yeah, I did have a sick day. And my sickness isn't only going to affect me." Everyone looked confused by this strange pronouncement.

"Umm. Dare, what you mean?"

"I mean _Soda _that I'm too sick to save you." Understanding crossed Soda's face.

"Oh. Darry, I wouldn't have let you go anyway. I would have injured you myself."

"You don't think that hasn't crossed my mind? It's still crossing my mind. Soda, you're not going." Soda pouted. Pony interjected, trying to stand up for Soda, without even knowing what the argument is about.

"Soda's an adult. You aren't legally allowed to tell him what to do!"

"Stay out of it Pony." I snapped. He visibly swelled.

"I honestly can't wait till I'm a grown up and I can do whatever the hell I want!" Somehow the words "grown-up" and "hell" didn't go in the same sentence. "I want to do whatever Soda's planning on doing." Soda giggled, and I shot him a glare. He began to full out laugh, tear streaming down his face.

"Pony, you aren't gonna do what Soda's gonna do. Cuz I won't let you. I won't let either of you." Soda fell backwards he was laughing so hard.

"You can't stop him. And you wont be able to stop me." Again, my last shred of patience was taken.

"You need to learn to pick your battles kid!" I screamed to a shocked Ponyboy. "You can't always side with Soda! Sometimes he's wrong! And he is more wrong than ever in this."

"And like your never wrong." Pony said sarcastically. I closed my eyes, resisting the urge to hit the kid.

"Fine. Fine. Soda stop laughing. I'm 'bout to tell him. Then we'll see who's wrong." This sobered Soda up.

"No, Da-" But I shouted over his protests.

"Soda is going to Vietnam to fight and I'm tryin' to get him out of it. He won't let me cuz he's a suicidal brat." Ouch. I winced, knowing I had gone to far. I immediately walked over to an abruptly shaking Pony, holding him in my arms.

"No...no, Baby, please don't cry." I begged, but despite my pleas, my shit was soaked in seconds. Than Pony jerked away from me forcefully.

He crawled towards Soda, who was glaring at me with a burning hatred I had hardly ever seen. "I-its n-not true. R-right Soda?" He cried into Soda's shoulder.

"Yeah. I wanted to tell you. Sorry I didn't get the chance. I love you honey. You just worry about yourself ok? Either way, I get to see people I love. You on earth and Dal, Johnnycakes, Mum and Dad in heaven. And then 80 year later after you win _at least_ one Nobel prize, you get to see us too."

"And me." Two-Bit said dryly, referencing for the first time, his own mortality.

Steve, Pony and Soda sat down next to Two-Bit on the couch, all of them crying for the others bad fortune.

I felt like an Outsider of Outsiders. Cast aside from the people who truly loved each other. This confirmed my suspicions that I was not wanted or needed. I sighed wearily. It made me feel weird to think that, this might be the last time I see them all like this. Alive and well, huddled in each others arms.

I sighed again and walked up towards bed, ashamed at my behavior. Later, I would be further shamed that Soda left to war while he hated me.


	5. Chapter 5

**Wow! Thanks for all the reviews! The last chapter got more reviews than all the other chapter put together. I guess if I just dial up the drama I should be ok:) Well, that if why you read a story in the "tragedy" category.**

**I do not own the outsiders.**

* * *

The people at the train station reflected my mood. Their faces were grim as they waved goodbye to their loved ones, Soc and greaser no longer identifiable in the confusion.

The truth was that every type of person would have to fight along side each other is they wanted to get out of this war alive. Greaser, Soc, black, white, from the person who works at the gas station to the politicians son, raised in the lap of luxury.

Soda didn't fit into any of those categories. Not in my eyes. He wasn't "Male, White, 6' 1"" To me. He was Soda. Someone whose personality could never be explained in words.

And I might never see him again. I glanced at Soda at this revelation. He was determinedly avoiding my gaze as he hugged Pony for the thousand and one time.

"Soda!" I choked out. He broke himself from Pony's grasp with difficulty and walk towards me.

I wrapped my arms around him. He didn't exactly reciprocate, but he withstood it. "Soda." I muttered in hims ear, my voice catching. "Please be safe. Please. I can't lose you too. I love you so much bud. SO much. Don't leave. Please!"

Soda pulled back and looked at me calculatingly. I had never seen that look on his face before. His eyes always showed his emotions perfectly. He was one who wore his heart on his sleeve, and could make anyone spill their feelings. Even me, apparently.

"I'm leaving Darrel." My heart sank. He was angry.

"I know Soda. I'm sorry. I love you." He smiled cooley, and nodded.

My throat caught as I hugged his unrelenting body.

He hadn't looked me in the eye when he nodded.

* * *

I put this is the back of my mind. I had to strong. For Pony. For Steve and Two-Bit. For Soda.

"Let's go Pony." I said gruffly. He glared in a way that reminded me irresistibly of a young Dally.

I swallowed. I would never let on, but I missed Dal and Johnny like hell. It hurt more than any physical pain I had ever felt. Dally and I had been close. Everyone thinks Johnny, Two-Bit, and Soda were the understanding ones, but they just listened well. Dally _understood _every problem because he had gone through many of them- and more.

"I don't want to go yet" Pony said, sticking his nose in the air.

"Fine. Can we at least sit down?" Pony hesitated then nodded, seating himself besides me on a bench covered in grafitti.

I wrapped my arm around him, but he shrugged it off, glaring at me. I sighed in resignation.

"Pony, these next few months are gonna be tough. The rest of your life is gonna be tough. There's no denying it, Two-Bit's dying, and Soda..." I trailed off, not able to continue. I wasn't doing a very good job at comforting him.

"What I'm trying to say is that you need to be tough. And tuff...ok?" When he said nothing, I continued, my voice taking on a slightly pleading tone.

"Pony please!" He said nothing. Steve sat on the other side of Pony and began talking to him soothingly. All of the stuff he said was complete crap, and there was no way he believed such statements as "Soda will be alright! don't worry!" but he said them for Pony's sake.

I caught his eye, and mouthed "_can I go?_" He looked angry, but he nodded.

I almost ran out of the train station to the car. I turned up the radio all the way, trying to drown out my thoughts. It wasn't a song I recognized. It had strange instruments that sounded otherworldly.

_Well  
I know what I've been told  
You gotta know just when to fold  
But I can't do this all on my own  
No, I know, I'm no Superman  
I'm no Superman_

_That's right_

_You've crossed the finish line_  
_Won the race but lost your mind_  
_Was it worth it after all_

_I need you here with me_  
_Cause love is all we need_  
_Just take a hold of the hand that breaks the fall_

_Well I know what I've been told_  
_Gotta break free to break the mold_  
_But I can't do this all on my own_  
_No I can't do this all on my own _  
_I know that I'm no Superman_  
_I'm no Superman_  
_I'm no Superman_

I felt tears threaten their way to my vision, but none spilled over. I had to be strong. I had to be superman.

* * *

Ponyboy was acting strangely. I couldn't blame the kid, but it was starting to get on my nerves. He would come home, go directly to his room, and not come out again until 9:00 when he would sneak down to eat, while he thought I was asleep.

Steve was acting even weirder. I blamed Pony for this. Before his chat with Pony, he seemed fine, but I hadn't even seen him since.

But I pushed all of this to the back of my mind in light of my most pressing worry. Well, at least my first priority: Two-Bits health. He had accepted his death, but I was still only on the first stage of grief: denial.

Actually, for me this was the only stage of grief. I never got angry or started bargaining and crap. I just pushed it to the back of my mind and pretended it wasn't happening. I still half expected Soda, Dally, and Johnny to walk through the door.

I knew Soda wasn't dead yet. Hell, he wouldn't even be through boot camp yet. But I also knew he had a better chance of dying than of surviving. Especially with his heroic ideals. Maybe his last words with Pony had convinced him not to be stupid. I could only hope.

Two-Bit couldn't move any part of his arms now. I was panicking at how quickly the virus was acting. I felt as though I still barely knew Two-Bit.

* * *

New Years eve passed with a roar from the streets, but no sound from the Curtis household.

I sat downstairs with Two-Bit. Neither of us were saying much. I knew it was beginning to hurt Two-Bit when he talked.

After the screaming died down he forced out, "Darry, I just thought of something. It's just gonna be you, Pony and Steve when I'm gone." I was used to this new morbid Two-Bit, but this thought had never really occured to me. Also another thing was bothering me.

"What do you mean? You forgot Soda. And nobody said you're gonna die."

Two-Bit chuckled darkly. "Soda's as much of a goner as I am man."

"Well then, not so much of a goner." I shook with rage and (if I'm honest with myself) fear.

"Darry? Come over here for a second." I went over to Two-Bit.

I had tried to deny it, but there was no doubt; Two-Bit looked like shit.

"What Two-Bit?" I muttered kneeling next to him.

"I want you to admit that I'm gonna die." I shook my head and looked away.

"I'm not kidding Darry. I want you to say 'Two-Bit, you're going to die.'" I found it hard to break his gaze, but I continued to shake my head, like a dog trying to rid it's ears of water.

"SAY IT!" He screamed at the top of his voice, making me shudder, but I kept up my continual shake of my head.

"No. Two-Bit your not going to die." Two-Bit glared harshly at me.

"Why? Why wont you let me die?" I was startled by this. Let him? What did he mean? I wasn't stopping him. I winced at how harsh this sounded, even in my own head.

"Two-Bit, you're not going to die." I repeated, sounding like a broken record.

"Why!" Two-Bit said, more insistently. I hesitated, then blurted out what I truly thought.

"Because you can't leave me all alone."

"You won't be alone superman...What about Pony? And Steve? And..._maybe _Soda?" I laughed humorlessly.

"Steve? My brothers best friend who doesn't know me at all? Pony, my little brother who hasn't spoken to me in a week, and wont ever speak to me again if Soda dies? And Soda...he left angry at me Two-Bit. I told him I loved him and he just nodded like, he knows I love him, but he doesn't love me. He didn't hug me. Two-Bit, _my own brother _couldn't say "I love you" and look me in the eye."

Two-Bit looked shocked by this. He looked curiously at me. "You know he loves you. He's just...stubborn. And stupid. Like Pony. They'll both come around eventually. Don't worry about it. You know we all love you. And Dally and Johnny...They loved you. And your mom and dad...they would be so proud of you right now. You just wont ever give up, will ya Dare?"

I shook my head, my moment of weakness patched with shame. "Thanks Two-Bit."

"Darry?"

"Yeah man?"

"Say it."

I sighed. I felt like I was pronouncing him dead by saying it, but I knew he needed to hear this. He needed to hear it so that he could be brave. I needed to be brave for him. It seems I'm always doing this.

"Keith 'Two-Bit' Mathews. You are my brother. And I can't imagine a world without you. But that's gonna be my life in a few weeks because," I swallowed a lump in my throat, "You are going to die."

A look of intense relief crossed Two-Bit's face and he muttered, "Thank you Darry." He closed his eyes.

I knew he was only asleep, but it wasn't hard to imagine the pale, still, weak boy in a coffin.


	6. Chapter 6

**Yep...you guys are gonna learn why I call it Dominoes. Thanks for giving suggestions...I'm actually gonna use one, which is surprising, cuz I don't take constructive criticism well. PLEASE REVIEW! I like fire!**

**I don't own the outsiders**

* * *

I sat by Two-Bit's side for a long time. I had no idea how long. Maybe hours, maybe just minutes that dragged on forever. Maybe several moonlit days.

I was angry with myself because I didn't miss Soda. It wasn't like I didn't love him. I wasn't even angry with him for acting how he was. It just didn't register with me. I worried about Two-Bit. Mostly when he would die, and how I would feel when he did. And Pony.

He had to be my main priority. I couldn't help Two-Bit or Soda. I wasn't even going to get involved with whatever Steve was doing. Pony still had hope.

He had stopped even coming down for meals, staying locked in his room all day. I had to force him to go to school, literally dragging him kicking and screaming to his first class. I never yelled at him anymore.

He was getting D's and F's, but I didn't care anymore. I only ever hollered at him because I knew he had more potential. This new depressed Pony is living up to his full potential by staying home all day.

It made me sad to think that I had already given up. On everyone. I no longer believed that Dal, Johnny, mom and dad were looking down, smiling an' blessin' me from heaven. They would never want all of this to happen to me.

They would never just watch Soda go to war. Watch Two-Bit becoming stiller and stiller by an invisible enemy. Watch Pony get darker and darker as the days went by.

I wasn't so sure if they would even care about my issues next to these. I'm not sure if they would care regardless.

My new motto was, "_you have to be strong; for -." _It didn't matter who it was. Pony, Soda, Two-Bit, Steve. But I couldn't break down just because it would make me feel better.

* * *

Weeks passed. It was now mid January. Two-Bit was so sick, he could only take about 8 breaths a minute. We knew he was close.

But he was alive long enough to be there when we received our first letter from Soda. It was technically addressed to Pony, but I tried to ignore this fact.

Pony read it alive, smiling for the first time since Soda's departure.

_"Dear Pony,_

_War kinda sucks. Ok, really sucks. I'm not even in Vietnam yet, and it's torture. Which got me thinkin', why don't criminals go to war instead of the hard workin' men? I guess you can answer that for me. I'm sure you're doing fine. Of course you are. You're the toughest kid I've ever met. How's Two-Bit? Tell Steve I will kick his ass if he does anything stupid. He'll hate me for saying this, but he's kinda weak. Not as strong as you or me pone._

_All that stuff you hear about boot camp? It's totally true. I've even scrubbed the floor with my toothbrush! 'Course, they didn't want me to get so sick I couldn't go to Vietnam, so they gave me a new one, but it took forever and my back still hurts._

_I've made some friends. You know me Pone. Mr. Sociality Actually, they tried to nickname me "Socy." I said to them, "Nah, I'm a greaser," But they didn't even know such thing as a Soc or greaser existed! can you believe that? Makes me think about what you said. About finding a place where no one cares what your background is or how you live life. Find a place where everyone is "Just guys."_

_Please tell me everything about home. I miss you and the others so much. I can't even express...getting all emotional here. Sorry._

_I love you Pony._

_Your brother,_

_Soda."_

I felt a bitterness rise in my stomach. I supposed I fit in the category of "the others" but Soda talked about the other three separately in detail.

I blinked at Pony. He apparently had noticed this lapse as well, as he looked slightly abashed. "Darry-" He began awkwardly, but I cut in.

"Don't worry about it Pony. I'm not insulted or anything. I'm just happy he's- or he seems- ok." I turned my attention towards Two-Bit, no able to stand the rush of emotions in Pony's eyes. "How bout that Two-Bit? Nice to hear from Soda again, ain't it?"

Two-Bit couldn't even speak anymore. He was awake, but his eyes were fluttering and when he did manage a breath, it was shallow and looked like it hurt.

I knew it would be soon. I knew Ponyboy knew.

I wondered which would be worse. waking up one morning and finding Two-Bit's body, just a shade paler and more relaxed looking that he had been. Or possibly getting a letter from the United States. quick and clean, no suffering, like I had always wished for.

On the one hand, you would get to say goodbye in Two-Bit's case. And you would get to die surrounded by people that you loved, but it was so painful for us and for Two-Bit. On the other hand, dying in a jungle somewhere half way across the world, but dying cleanly, painlessly...I couldn't decide.

Pony shook me from my reverie. "Darry, I'm sure he just forgot or something. He really does love you." I nodded, but chuckled disbelievingly.

"Yeah. I'm sure he just forgot. That makes sense." I tried to keep the sarcasm out of my voice. I sounded about 5 years old. A little jealous kid.

"Darry-"

"Drop it Pony. I-it's not really a big deal. It was your letter anyway. Doesn't make any sense for him to mention me in your letter."

Pony looked like he wanted to argue. I walked over to him and wrapped him in a hug. I hadn't hugged him since that day in the hospital after we had forgiven each other.

It felt nice, to be that close to someone again. Pony was startled, but wrapped his arms around me. I noticed that I could no longer fit my head comfortably on top of his head. He was getting so tall. He might even be taller than me when he was older.

"He's ok." I whispered into Pony's hair. I knew he heard me because he made a little choking sound in his throat.

* * *

_**Third person POV**_

Two-Bit Mathews had never felt so much pain. He felt nothing in his arms, legs, and back, but with every breath, it felt as though a knife were being twisted through his lungs.

He knew it was tonight. He never imagined he'd go down this way. He always thought he'd go down like Dal; tough and memorable. Or like Johnny; a hero. Or, if he was honest with himself, like Mr. and Mrs. Curtis; driving at night while drunk.

But never a disease. Much less polio. a virus that only killed the weakest of immune systems.

Death wasn't as Two-Bit had imagined it either. His limbs felt heavy. His eyelids felt heavy, but he didn't want to close them. He though he'd be ready.

He thought that he would have accepted death and greet death with open arms and closed eyes.

But nothing is ever quite how you suppose.

Two-Bit felt an excruciating pain as his lungs finally gave way, and he died.

No peaceful sensation.

No white light.

Nothing tangible on the other side.

The best that can be said for death is that, for Two-Bit, it was a hell of a lot better than life.


	7. Chapter 7

**Ok guys. I want AT LEAST 6 reviews on this chapter. Also, I would really like suggestions on what story to write next (about the Outsiders) I'm having some writers block. You know my style... tragedy hurt comfort. Although I would be up for a challenge.**

**I do not own the Outsiders.**

* * *

I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes as I stumbled down the stairs at 6:00 in the morning. I liked this time of day best. Nothing had registered yet. I could eat in painless oblivion. But I would always have a rude awakening. Sometimes pony would come downstairs, looking angry to see me. Sometimes I would glance over at the picture of the gang, arms wrapped around each other.

I poured the milk and eggs into a bowl. I was in the mood for some french toast. Also, Pony hadn't been eating well lately, so I figured he wouldn't be able to resist this delicacy.

Our stove is slow. It's electric and it takes about 10 minutes longer than an average stove to cook breakfast.

I sat in my recliner, listening to the slow sizzle of my french toast and Two-Bit's breathing.

Then I bolted up. I sat, stock still as though trying not to frighten an animal.

When Two-Bit breathes, it sounds ragged and stranggled, like a thousand people breathing in at once.

I waited about 5 minutes. I sighed, resigning myself to the worst. Yet I didn't move towards the body lying on my couch.

I had known this day would come, but it took my by surprise. I felt breathless and vulnerable. I started breathing in an out as fast as I could, trying to get oxygen into my lungs.

I think I made a strangled shout because I could hear footsteps. Not Two-Bit. Not Two-Bit.

I couldn't even tell myself "be strong for someone else." Who was there to be strong for. Soda was in Vietnam, unaware of the death of our friend. Pony was in a state of mind so otherworldly, he might as well be halfway across the world as well.

I saw black around my vision and I knew I was going to faint. I heard the footstep again, but they were coming not from the second floor but from outside. The next thing I knew, the darkness consumed my vision.

* * *

I woke up too early for my liking. For a second, I thought that Dally loomed over me, but the figure was missing his white blonde hair.

It finally occurred to me that it was Steve Randle who stood tall above me. I had thought it was Dally because of his bloodshot, cold eyes.

"Steve?" I croaked.

"Hey Dare." He smiled distantly and offered me a hand up, which I took, putting a lot more weight on the hand than was protocall.

"What are you doing here Steve?"

"I heard Two-Bit had finally kicked it." He laughed cooly, and I glared at him, the affect slightly marred by the fact that I couldn't stand up without swaying.

"What do you mean? Who told ya?"

"Tim Shepard. He came by to sleep at your house today. Said he found a dead guy there. Wasn't long dead when Tim saw him. His body was still warm he said."

"Tim Shepard cam by. To sleep on our couch?"

"That's what I just said, ain't it?"

"I should start locking the doors." I mused, trying not to think about Two-Bit.

"Why? Never did before. What if one of the gang wants to come by." I chuckled darkly.

"Who? No one's gonna come in drunk at one o'clock in the morning no more. Why should I even leave it unlocked? Pony isn't gonna come home late. He will barely leave the house at all."

Steve nodded. I took a closer look at him, noticing the flush in his cheeks and the shaking of his hands.

"Why are ya so messed up Randle?" Steve snorted.

"Thanks for the boost of self-confidence Dare."

"Steve, are you doping?" Steve snorted again, this time more forcefully.

"I'm not the type Darrel. My life is ruined enough without wasting all my money on something thats just gonna ruin my life more." I didn't know if I believed him, but I nodded.

"So, why do ya look messed up?" I repeated.

"Work. Been working about 17 hours a day. That's why I came by. Here."

He handed me a small piece of paper. A check. I stared wide-eyed down at the amount.

"There's no way you made this much money working at the Dx for 17 hours a day. You may not be doing drugs, but from the looks of things, you're dealing them. If this is only half your paycheck..."

"It's not. It's...it's the whole thing."

"Why the hell would you waste money like that on us? Soda isn't here anymore Steve. He might never be here. He was the only person you like anyhow." I said bitterly.

"That's not true. I liked Dally, Johnny, and Two-Bit. Even Pony had his moments. The only one I ever hated was you, and that's only cuz you hated me. And I'm giving you this cuz I got a letter from Soda too."

I swallowed. Another person added to the list of people who hate me. With the swallow, I pushed all of my emotions into my gut, making me brave to continue the conversation. "What'd it say?"

"Well," Steve drawled, "I'm no Pony so I'm not gonna recite it word for word but he said he wanted me to help the kid. He told me to help you out with paying the bills, get you guys over him, the works. Here's his signature. By the way, my dad kicked me out, so I'm gonna be living with you also."

I stood, towering above him. He didn't look intimidated. On the contrary, he looked bored with the proceedings. "I swear to god, if you hurt my little brother or set a bad example, or do anything Soda wouldn't have done, I will personally and joyfully murder you."

Steve just smiled.

* * *

Life improved dramatically when Steve moved in. He dealt with Two-Bit's body, giving it to a funeral home to be preserved until Soda got back. Or didn't.

Soda would be back in 9 months now. One month of training, nine months of service. It was February, and the bitter winds slammed against our little house, threatening on the thin panes of glass.

Pony had started having night mares. I never spoke to him about them (hell, I barely ever talked to him). I knew we were both just waiting for our buffer to come back. If he didn't, I don't know how we'd deal.

I woke to the sounds of gasping through the thin walls and I knew Pony had just woken up from a nightmare.

On the 16 of February, I knew it was a particularly bad one. Pony woke screaming bloody murder. I groaned, pulling myself out of bed, ready to be cold shouldered by my baby brother.

I peered around his doorframe to find a scene I didn't expect. Steve sat with Pony, both of them crying, huddled together. Steve stroked Pony's hair like he had seen Soda do. I looked rougher and not as loving, but Pony's shuddering sobs calmed to stifled moans.

Steve gently lay Pony down on the bed. I saw him flash Pony a look that was so tender, it made me smile a little.

Steve caught my eye as he flung his arm over Pony. He saw my smile and for a second, he looked surprised by this show of emotion, but he just glared at me the next moment.

"_The only one I ever hated was you..." _The smile was wiped off my face by the time I returned to bed.

* * *

**Please review! just reminding you and all. Thank you to all my reviewers.**

**-ERF10722**


	8. Chapter 8

**Ok. For some reason, my fanfictions aren't coming in at the beginning of the feed anymore. That makes me sad, cuz I'm not gonna get many reviews (if any) anymore. :(((( But if you have read and like some of my other stories, I have a new one! It's called Silver to Gold, and it is ****_intense! _****Basically, Johnny got a sex change, but cant tell his friends. It's pretty mature, but only because trans-gender people aren't accepted everywhere:(((( I have a friend who just changed his (formerly her) gender, and this was inspired by him.**

**I do not own the Outsiders.**

* * *

I tried to ignore the signs. I needed Steve too much to confront him. I always knew he could get into something like this. Soda was the only one who kept him in line. He was as wild as Dally, if not more so, but with the restraints of love binding him to sanity.

Just as Johnny was Dally's breaking point, I was sure that if Soda died, Steve would lose the will to live. As it was, without Soda, I could tell Steve was getting into some bad stuff.

And I knew exactly what kind of "bad stuff."

At that moment, I lay in my recliner, thinking of all the people I had lost, and how the scales really didn't balance out anymore. The way I saw it, you should be with as many people you love as possible. When Dally and Johnny died, I had 4 people I loved with me, and 4 in heaven. I had to stay for the 4 on earth.

Now I had 5 in heaven, 2 with me, and one in vietnam. And, of the people on earth, I wasn't sure if any of them even _liked _me, let alone loved me.

But I love Pony, Soda, and Steve enough not to leave them. I wasn't going to pity myself and think sulkily that no one would miss me.

I knew my flaws. I was condescending, over protective, arrogant, and short tempered. But I also knew that two years of this side of my personality couldn't completely over ride 18 years of easy going, happy, and talented Darry.

Because of these happy 18 years (the years before my parents had died) I knew that Soda, Pony, and Steve would grieve me. Perhaps not a thoroughly as I would grieve for any one of them, and definitely not as thoroughly as I was inwardly grieving my already lost friends. But it was a consolation that if I were to die, someone would care.

But a small part of me, the part I buried under the sweat of my work and the worries weighing on my shoulders, wondered what it was worth for someone to grieve for you after death, if they don't take the opportunity to love you while you're here.

As I said, I pushed these thoughts down. I knew I was bottling up my emotions, and I knew this was unhealthy. I knew I was gonna reach a breaking point.

Just like the young lost boy who had turned to a man sooner than even I had.

Dallas Winston.

* * *

I decided that I had to confront Steve about the "little problem" the next day.

I asked Pony to leave us alone (Pony glared at me rebelliously, and gave Steve a protective glance.)

"What's this about Darrel?" I hesitated. I really appreciated his help, and I didn't want him to leave, but I couldn't just stand by either.

"Do you like Ponyboy?" Steve rolled his eyes at me.

"Yes. Get to the point Darrel."

"Do you love him? Like Soda used to love him?" Steve looked awkward at the question. I knew that he was uncomfortable of anyone who loved another guy, even if it was just like a brother. This was the reason why he had hated Pony.

"Yeah. Yeah, I think I do Darry." There was a pause, as I tried to shape my next thought into words. "What do you mean "used to love him?" Did Soda and him have a fight? Did Soda die? Did Pony die? No. So stop talking about him in the past tense. He's alive, and he isn't _going _to die."

I laughed bitterly. "If it were up to him he would. Hopefully some stupid Vietnam soldier will miss him and he'll come home, but if I were you, I wouldn't get my hopes up."

I winced internally. Glory, that was harsh. I wanted to cry. Weakness would make Steve forgive me, but my body refused to adhere to my desperate pleas.

"What?" Steve's voice was cool and shaking with anger. "You bastard. You little mother-"

Steve flew at me. I felt fists hit my body. It took all the will I had _not _to fight back. I wasn't going to hurt Steve. But he kept wailing on me, screaming hateful words, tears streaming down his face.

After a minute of this, I dropped to the floor, curled into ball so tight, it seemed unlikely I would ever unfurl myself. I placed my head under my arms, and let the blows come. One particularly hard kick hit me in the neck, and I heard a small crack.

I was thankful when the pain dimmed. The last thing I remember was pounding footsteps and a voice asking, "Steve?"

* * *

I couldn't have resurfaced to consciousness much long after, although the sky outside begged to differ. I was sure that if I had been out for long, someone would have moved me, at the very least onto the couch, but no such luck.

I was sprawled out of the floor of the living room still. My head and neck hurt like hell, and, at a glance down at my arms I could see purple bruises forming.

I inhaled deeply, noticing for the first time the strange smell in the house. Food. Steve could actually cook pretty well, so I figured he was making something. My stomach growled loudly, and I hoisted myself to my feet.

Inside the kitchen was a stunned looking Pony and Steve who was stirring a pot of red sauce. Steve refused to look around when I entered the kitchen, but Pony pointedly stared at me with a hate filled look. hate. My baby brother _hated _me.

"Hey Pony." I tried to speak gently, like cooing a baby, but my voice naturally came out gravelly and course.

Pony's glare did not soften. If anything, I noticed his fists balled in his lap. I glanced at them warily. I knew from watching him at rumbles that Pony could throw a punch.

I sighed. There was no putting it off. I would have to apologize. "Listen, Steve, about what I said before-"

"Save it Darryl."

"I'm sorry."

"I said save it! We all know you don't mean what you say. God, how do you even live with yourself? Even Dal loved _somebody. _It killed him, but it also save his life for the 17 years he _was _alive."

My heart seemed to stop. Steve didn't think I loved anybody? How could he think that?

"That's not true Steve. I love you, Soda and Pony. I loved Dally, Johnny, Two-Bit, Mom and Dad."

"Yeah right. You didn't love Two-Bit enough to even _try _to save him. You hit Pony, Darry! What kind of sick person does that?"

I shuddered at his words, and Steve almost seemed to draw strength from the shake.

"And what about Soda? You don't even care, do you? You just think 'oh well. I mean, he wasn't always very happy in his last 2 months of life, so he probably deserved to die anyway."

"Thats not what I said!"

"That's what it sounded like from where I stood." I sat carefully on a stool, and prayed (something I hadn't done in a very long time) for patience.

"Steve, I have said I'm sorry. What do you want from me?"

"Just stay out of my life! That should ensure you don't get beat up again! We're both here for pony, but that doesn't mean we ever have to see each other."

I put my head in my hands in frustration and sadness. Each of Steve's words hit my heart like bullets, wounds that could never heal. I sighed and stood.

I walked around the table to Pony, whose gaze was still hard as Dally's had been.

I put my arms around his unwilling and tense body. "I love you honey. I am so, _so _sorry." I whispered in his ear, giving him an extra squeeze.

"Get away from him!" Steve yelled. I turned slowly to him, angler blurring my vision.

"You already said it: We are both here for Pony. Just let me speak to my own brother for gods sake!" I stormed out of the room (kinnda like a teenage girl) and didn't wait for Steve's retort.


	9. Chapter 9

**thank you so much! Especially ****Goldenthorns****...you deserve all credit for this chapter, as it probably wouldn't have happened for another month or two without your idea!**

**I don't own the Outsiders**

* * *

I hadn't seen Steve since he beat me up. This was not an accident, but because I was avoiding him. I'm slightly ashamed of myself, but more angry at him than anything.

I've been trying to talk to Pony sometimes, but he's been shutting me out. It's obvious that he chose Steve over me.

I went through my days as though I were just drifting by, not really caring about anything or anyone. I got up early, went to work, worked hard all day, came home, made dinner for the guys, ate dinner, left the rest, and went to bed.

There was no variation to my day. If someone cared enough to ask how my day had been, I would tell them every time, 'I don't remember." And it was true. My days blurred together like my childhood memories.

I was surprised when, one monday, Pony sat down at a booth with me in the cafe that I got all of my paper work done in.

He never did this anymore, even resorting to sneaking in after I had fallen asleep so that he wouldn't have to see me. "Hey Pony."

I called softly, as though trying not to startle him. "Steve told me to come."

I smiled at him gently and replied dryly, "Is that so? Well, I'm glad to see you. I was beginning to think that you did want to talk to me anymore." Pony snorted, and swore at me, causing me to wince.

"So, what brings you here?"

"Steve."

"Yeah, I know, but why did Steve want you to see me? Isn't he still angry with me?"

"Yeah, he is, but he wanted me to deliver a piece of mail."

"Ok." I paused then prompted, "Can I have it?"

He shoved an open envelope to me, and glared out the window.

The letter read: _Darrel Curtis,_

_We regret to inform you that your (insert relation here) has been registered as missing in action._

_Out condolences,_

_The US Army, "In God we Trust."_

My heart rate sank, and then quickened. I think I made a sound because Pony looked at me, but I hardly noticed.

This was my life now. Soda was dead. Or lost in the jungle somewhere alone, about to die. Soda would never come back and force Steve to act normal and civil. He wouldn't come and be the bridge between me and Pony.

Whatever had been connecting me and the rest of the world broke, and my vision blurred. "Darry?" Pony's voice sounded very far away, too far away for him to hear my response from where I was.

I slid my head onto my folded arms, and I began to shake. I was not crying. As I mentioned, I have a hard time doing something as human as this. Besides, my pain was beyond tears.

"Darry are you ok?"

Pony sounded almost concerned. I thought how ironic it was that all it took was the death of our brother for him to see me as a person.

His hand touched my shoulder and I shuddered at his touch and jerked away. All I could see behind my closed lids was Soda, and when Pony touched me, I thought for a second that he _was _Soda.

"Darry!" Pony said louder this time, shaking me.

_Ten more seconds. Ten more seconds and you have to look up at Pony. How do you think he's feeling? His favorite brother is dead. _

_Ten. _I remember Soda's laugh.

_nine. _I silently said goodbye to my happy-go-lucky brother.

_eight. _my little, baby brother

_seven. _I wish he didn't die hating me.

_six. _Why does everyone hate me?

_five. _Can I really blame them?

_four. _Sodapop Pepsi-Cola Curtis is dead

_three. _Accept it and move on.

_Two. _That was never going to happen. I could never accept it.

_one. _I hated being strong for other people.

I pulled my head out of my arms, but I couldn't meet Pony's gaze. "I'm sorry." I muttered.

"What for? Not your fault." I didn't say anything, but I chuckled darkly. "It really isn't your fault. I'm sorry for being a jerk to you these past months."

I met his eyes in dull surprise. "Months?" I inquired tonelessly. Pony looked surprised.

"Yeah. Since Soda left. It's April now. By the way, happy birthday."

I stared, horrified at him. I got up, slamming my money down on the counter before stomping out into the warm air.

My birthday.

Just my luck. The day I was born also has to be the day I found out that I would never see my brother again.

I heard Pony following me, yelling out to me, but I didn't turn. I didn't notice what was happening around me, until I heard a scream.

Surrounding Pony were six Socs, all of them extending switch blade. My vision turned white with rage, and I barreled towards the men.

I felt my fist connect with someones jaw, and heard a crack, but I was unsure whether it came from my fist or the Socs jaw.

Three of the Socs turned on me, the rest on Pony. All I felt in the next minutes were fists and kicks, and all I heard was the pounding of blood in my ears and the thuds of bodies hitting the pavement.

The three Socs that had attacked Pony looked at me in fear, turned heel, and ran, dragging their unconscious friends with them. I felt a surge of triumph, then realization dawned on me that Pony was not on his feet.

I searched Pony's unconscious body for stab wounds, and to my relief, found none. Just then a voice sounded.

Steve stepped into the glow of the lamplight, that in the cloudless night, shone like a carbuncle.

"What the hell did you do to Pony!"

"I didn-"

"Was this because you found out about Soda? You Bastard." Steve Lunged for me, pulling his switchblade.

I'm strong, but my strength had evaporated after the fight with the Socs, and I wasn't in the mood to fight Steve.

"Steve, I can explain-"

"I don't want to hear it Darry." He paused, letting the silence hang heavy like smog in the air. He broke the silence in a low, trembling, and dangerous voice, that reminded me of Dally. "I could kill you you know. I probably wouldn't even have any regrets about it. Not after you hurt Pony physically and were always such a jerk to Soda. No one would ever know. You'd better run Darry, or I _will _do it."

I didn't make a move, and Steve continued, his voice taking on a drawling quality. "You know, nobody would miss you. Soda's gone. Pony hated you for most of his life. I hated you for all of my life. Honestly, if I were in your position, I would have committed suicide a long time ago, just to be done with it all. Just shows how selfish you are that you don't."

He lunged forward, and I ran, the only sounds my panting breath, and Steves almost maniac laughter.

* * *

I woke up, weeks later, to the sound of the door opening. For a minute, I envisioned Johnny coming in after a cold night in the lot, or Two-Bit drunkenly stumbling in.

But I knew it was more than likely my imagination.

I had thought a lot about what Steve said. About suicide. Why didn't I just kick the bucket? I would be with Soda, Mom, Dad, Dally, Johnny, and Two-bit.

And I would leave behind a world full of hate.

I didn't do it because I was scared. Ever since I was a little kid, I wondered what happens after death. I guess I never really got rid of the notion that if I committed suicide, I would go to hell. At the moment, I couldn't imagine a more loveless place than this hell I was living.

I heard more footsteps downstairs, and suddenly I was wide awake.

No one would come to visit, so it must be an intruder. I should've started locking the door, but I couldn't bring myself to do it.

I grabbed a switchblade, desperately hoping it was just some kid, not an armed robber.

A silhouette with short hair stood in the living room, not doing anything just standing.

"I'm warning you," I told the Soc. "You'd better get out of my house or-" The man turned to face me, and my stomach gave an uncomfortable lurch.

"Sodapop." I breathed.

* * *

**So, tell me how you want this to end. Happy? Sad? If you don't tell me, I will end it so sadly, you will be scarred for life.**

**Of course, thats how I originally planned to end it, but I don't know if I can bring myself to do it.**

**ERF10722**


	10. Chapter 10

**Wow...I cried making this. **

**I don't own the Outsiders...please tell me what you think should happen next!**

**(p.s. this doesn't make any sense before you read this, but the mealworm promise is a really thing. My sister and I made it up under the exact same circumstances in the story...sorry if you think it's stupid.)**

* * *

"Sodapop!" I cried louder. He smiled tiredly, and I threw myself at him, causing him to fall to the floor with a groan.

I hurriedly got off of him. "Soda, soda baby! Are you ok? Did I hurt you?"

"I'm fine. I think." I helped him up and wrapped him in a hug.

"Soda." I chanted his name over and over, holding on to him, even as he started to struggle. He laughed a little as I continued to clutch him.

"I missed you too Darry." I couldn't even remember what he had been angry at me for, but I didn't care at this moment.

I felt a strange sensation of happiness that had been absent from my life for months. I smiled at Soda so widely, my cheeks began to hurt.

I felt a burning in my throat, and I made a strange sound. Soda gave me a surprised look. "Are you-are you _crying_?"

"I don't know!" I said, my voice strangely distorted. Soda laughed lightly, and I brought him into a hug again.

"Soda, I missed you so much. _So _much. You don't know how hard it's been-" I felt like an idiot. How hard _my _life had been? He was the one who I thought was dead. "I'm sorry."

"No, don't worry about it Dar. I want to hear about what lifes been like here. Hows Pony? And Steve? I guess Two-Bit died," He said bluntly, "But how are you Darry?"

I started to say that I was fine, try to be brave for Soda's sake, but as soon as I opened my mouth, the entire truth started pouring out.

My voice broke when I explained about how Pony hated me, how Steve thought that I had beat him up, the restraining order that Steve was filing against me, and the fact that I might go to jail for child abuse.

This had been news to me as of about three days ago, when a letter had arrived with a scheduled court date.

Soda sat in stunned silence as my story drew to a close.

"Wow. Darry." I nodded, looking at my knuckles, which were stained white from stress.

"Yeah."

"I'm not saying that it's not your fault. You aren't blameless, but man, I am sorry about what happened. Makes 'Nam seems almost not hellish in comparison." He laughed bitterly.

I wasn't used to this new Sodapop. My little brother used to smile easily, he used to like everyone, and everyone in return would like him. He seems older now, as though the months had passed by like years.

I hesitantly brought my hand to his hair, and stroked it like I used to when he was little. It felt odd for the hair to be so short and bristly, with out the slick hair grease in it.

"Soda, what happened? Why were you MIA?"

"I-it's a long story."

"Trust me, I've got time."

"I don't want to make you scared." I reached for him and pulled him next to me on the couch, barely able to squeeze next to eachother.

"Soda, I'm not going to get scared. And I wont show it if I am. Mealworm promise." He laughed shakily.

The mealworm promise was something that we had made up in second and fifth grade. I was studying the creatures in science class, and I brought one home. When it died, I dared Soda into eating it.

He puked for the entire night, and afterwards he said to me, "You promise not to make me eat a worm again?"

I had grinned broadly, and said, "Mealworm promise."

"You know, if you break that promise, I'm gonna make you eat a worm."

We even made a handshake for it, and it was still a little private joke between us.

Back in those days, Soda and I were closer than any pair of brothers in Tulsa, which is why I still hang onto the tradition, just so I can be a little closer to my brother as the years went by.

His smile almost looked real, like Dad's smile had looked. But the weariness grew in his eyes again after we completed the handshake.

"Training sucked. It was harder than anything I had ever done. I wasn't the best soldier. I didn't like to follow orders." Soda spoke in monotonous, broken sentences. "When we got to 'Nam, we were all real bored. Theres a lot of time over there. Time goes slowly when your just hanging out in the cabin, but it flashes before your eyes when your running through the jungle for your life."

The clinical tone broke and he sniffed, and shuddered. "And there were bullet everywhere, and it was so smoky I couldn't see anything. I didn't remember that I was killing people until I got back to the cabin. I tried not to show it, but I was broken up over it. What if they had parents? If I died, at least I would be with most of my friends, but how can I know thats true for every soldier."

Tears brimmed in Soda's eyes and fell silently down his sculpted cheeks onto his chest. I placed a kiss on his temple, and brushed away his tears. "I kept thinking," He continued, his voice broken, "That I should have died."

"No. Please don't say that Soda. I thought you had died and I-I went crazy. I almost killed a kid, I scared Pony to death. It would kill me if you died. I'm so glad you're here baby."

I didn't often call Soda "baby." That was Pony's title, but in that moment, I needed to remind him that he was just a kid. He was allowed to be scared.

"And my friend, Rob, he-he didn't make it. I went with some military guide to tell his family, and I just thought, 'what is the point of all of this?' life ends in death. We know that, so whats the point of even living?"

He looked desperately, and I was scared to realize that that question was not rhetorical. He wanted me, his big brother "Superman" to give him an answer. I had to choose my words carefully. "We have to live because...we have to all help each other." It sounded lame, and I quickly began to explain. "Like one of those houses the American Indians used. How all of the supports leaned on each other. If one is removed, it will still stand because they all have each other for support. We have to live because we have to help keep the building standing."

Soda considered this. He nodded, and I was glad that he understood. We used to understand each other so well, mom would joke that we had telepathy. I think he understood me, even if I wasn't sure that I understood me.

Just then, I heard the creak of a door, and footsteps. I tensed and stood to find Steve, looking murderous and holding a gun.

I ducked down again, and Soda looked at me confusedly. He was to tired to really care until Steve stood right over us.

Then he grinned so widely, I thought his face would split in two. "Stevie!" He jumped up into Steve's arms, and seemed to notice the gun for the first time.

Steve pulled Soda behind him, and pointed the gun at me.


	11. Chapter 11

**Thanks for the reviews! I hope this chapter makes y'all happy.**

**I do not own the Outsiders.**

* * *

I froze.

I always wondered what I would do if a gun was pointed at my face. Now I knew the answer, and I wasn't pleased with my cowardice.

I took a deep breath and thought, 'theres nothing left to lose now.'

"Steve." My hands were raised in the air in the universal sign of surrender. "Steve, please."

"I will kill you Darrel."

"Steve, don't do this. You don't want to do this to people you care about."

Steve laughed maniacally. "Who? You? I don't give a damn-"

"Not me Steve. Just let me get Soda and then we can talk."

Steve glanced at Soda who had his eyes on the gun. His breathing was fast and tears were streaming as quickly and as often as leafs fall in the autumn.

Steve lowered the gun, but kept his hand on the trigger.

"Darrel, you have better meet me down here in five minutes, or I _will _kill you." I believed him. My brothers best friend would murder me.

I nodded curtly as I gathered Soda in my arms. He was beginning to make small whimpering sounds, and when STeve reached out to touch him, he hissed and shied away.

"Shhh. It's ok baby. Don't worry. Steve isn't going to do anything. He's still the same friend you left behind."

Soda gulped and nodded against my chest as I carried him like a baby up to his room.

He was still wearing his army fatigues, and I tossed him his old DX shirt and some shorts to sleep in. He began to change, inhaling the smell of the shirt with a small sigh of happiness.

I pulled the covers up to his chin as though he were a little kid again. "Darry?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't get hurt please. I already went through a war. I can't have one happen right here, at home."

"Don't worry. Steve is just upset because of Pony..." I trailed off. I didn't want to make Soda even more distressed.

"Darry, I _need _to talk to Pony."

"I know baby. We'll find him."

"I need to see him _now_!" Soda sounded desperate, and although layers upon layers of covers were blanketing him, he was shivering as though in a barren ice land.

"I'll find him soon. When Steve and I are done talking, I'll send him up to see you. He's not Ponyboy, but he's the next best thing."

Soda nodded sleepily and almost smiled. "I love you Darry."

I almost tackled him in a hug as a lump rose in my throat, but I managed to restrain myself and answer, "I love you so much Pepsi-Cola. Sweet dreams."

I dreaded having a "talk" with steve. I knew it was more than likely going to end violently. I could only hope that he wouldn't pull the gun, or that it wasn't loaded.

I padded down the stairs cautiously and called out softly, "Steve?"

"Here." He sat in the recesses of the shadowy couch, his face half hidden by darkness.

"So, you wanted to talk?"

"I'm gonna ask you this once, nicely. _Where is Ponyboy_?" Steve hissed, sitting up straight so that his entire angry face was illuminated.

"Steve, I don't know. Maybe he ran! How should I know! I haven't seen him since...let's see...Since I saved his life from some Socs and you got pissed and ran away with my kid brother. Oh, and then you told the cops that I was a child abuser, filed a restraining order, and made a court date."

"Careful Darrel. I have a gun and I'm not afraid to use it."

Suddenly my blood was boiling, and I felt a reckless rage. "Yes you are."

"Excuse me?"

"I said that you are afraid to use it. You've never been more scared in your life. You can't find one of the few people you actually like, and you can't murder me because you would go to jail."

"I'm not afraid of the cops. I'd being doing them a favor, putting you behind bars."

"The only person you would be doing any favors would be me."

"How so?"

"Because I am the only person who would be fully content with my death." Steve was silent for a minute, but when he next spoke, it scared me more than any low threatening rumble or rageful scream.

"I can't lose Ponyboy. Soda will never forgive me. I will never forgive me." He was pleading with me, and my jaw dropped open. "Please, Darry, _please. _I have to find him. You have to help me."

I hesitated for a second, then strided over to the coat hanger, grabbing my leather jacket. "Fine."

"Thank you, thank you-"

"I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing it for my brothers. You were prepared to kill me, and I rarely forgive, and I _never _forget."

I didn't look back at Steve's reaction as I hurried to the car.

I decided to check the ribbon first. The ribbon was a long and wide street in Tulsa with businesses surrounding it on all sides. At night, it was almost beautiful from a distance, as many things are, but it was a shady place. Drug dealers lived there, along with faithful hippie costumers which frankly scared me more than the dealers. Prostitutes lined the street with the same frequency as buildings.

But it was fun to drive down the ribbon, under different circumstances that is. Now, it was scary. I was by myself without a switchblade or gun, and no idea where I was going. Not a good combination.

I took a deep breath as I pulled out of my driveway, almost wishing that I had some company. As soon as I thought that, Steve appeared, waving his hands at me.

I stopped and let him in. I glared at him, but deep down I was relieved. We began to drive in silence and soon we were stuck in the normal traffic along the ribbon.

Steve and I stared out opposite windows, glancing around desperately for Pony's head. As we passed a bunch of hippies, I noticed something.

One of the hippies was wearing a tie-died shirt that was cut in long strings. He sported high wasted jeans that ended long before his ankles, which he covered with mismatched cowboy boots.

Classic hippie clothes, and yet his hair was reddish brown with some blond at the tips, and his face, was that of my little brother.

"Pony!" I screamed. I parallel parked (rather clumsily) next to a hippie van a fancy Socs car. Steve followed me out of the truck, swearing at everything in sight.

"Hey man. Peace be with you. Stop the war in Vietnam! Why all the struggle, am I right brah?"

I glared at the blonde hippie with the tambourine, and almost punched him, but thought of Soda's rule against hitting hippies, and decided against it.

"That's my brother."

"Which one? Sputnik?"

"What?"

"Sputnik. He named himself after the first satellite in space. Smart kid that."

"Yeah, he is. I'm taking him home now."

"Every man has his own free will. You'r will is to take Sput home, but if he doesn't want you to, it wouldn't be peaceable of you to force him."

"I don't give a damn!" I wrapped an arm around Ponyboy and pulled him into my chest. "Where have you been baby? Why are you doing this?"

Pony recoiled, and began to scream. The other hippies laughed. They didn't care. Everything was a joke to them on their cloud nine.

"What's wrong with him!" For the first time I noticed something with Pony's eyes. There were clouded, and staring in opposite directions, and he looked and sounded deranged.

"He wanted some juice. We can't refuse to give someone something."

"Juice? What is juice?"

"Acid." Steve clarified from behind me. He walked to Pony, and covered his eyes. Pony seemed to calm down a little bit, and he let Steve carry him to the car.


	12. Chapter 12

**Woah. I just read the best Outsiders fanfiction. I haven't read a story with writing that good in a little while! I was also the first OC story that I have liked. If you have some extra time, read the story "Cancer." It's a little lighter than my stories, but still a little sad...I guess.**

**Anyway, I don't own the outsiders. **

* * *

I sat in the hard, blue plastic chair for what seemed like hours as I awaited the doctors sentence. I was so stunned, all I could do was stare at this one stain on the wall that reminded me of the shape of a heater. Like the one Dally used to have.

Pony had taken drugs. I never would have believed it of him. My little brother, who was so innocent he wouldn't even stay in the room for one of Two-Bit's jokes, who was so smart, who was going to make it.

Now he wont. LSD. How stupid could he get? As I thought this for the millionth time, A familiar figure burst through the doors to the waiting room. Soda.

He looked so panicked, I wondered if he was on drugs also. "Darry! Darry! I need to see Pony! God, I didn't think he would do _this! _Please." He was sobbing, and he continued to speak to some unknown spirit, visible only to him saying thing like, "I should've listened!" or "I didn't think he would!"

I sighed, already exhausted from dealing with my own messed up emotions. "Pepsi, please calm down."

He responded to the nickname, and moved to curl up under my arm as if he were a kitten. I kissed his spiky short blond hair.

"I can't believe this."

"It will be ok."

"No. Do you know what acid does to people?" I nodded, and he choked back a sob. "He won't be the same. Ever again." I nodded again.

"Why do you think he did this?"

"I don't know. It's my fault. This never would have happened if I had just been a better brother while you were gone."

Soda didn't contradict me. It was true. Pony had turned to Steve for comfort, he had been so desperate. I just hadn't noticed the signs.

Just as I was drowning in a pool of self pity, the doctor hauled me out of my thoughts. "Family of Ponyboy Curtis?"

"Yes?" I answered, nudging a sobbing Soda.

"Would you like to see your brother?" I nodded, and practically carried Soda to Pony's room.

Pony was awake, but he looked tired as death. His eyes fluttered distraughtly around the hospital room, and had a hard time focusing on me.

"Who's that?" He slurred, barely coherent, gesturing weakly to Soda. At the sound of Pony's voice, Soda seemed wide awake, and he almost dived to his little brother.

"Pony? Pony, it me, Soda."

"Sodas dead." His voice was hard, and Soda winced.

"No, no, I'm not honey. I'm right here."

"Get away from me!"

"Baby, Pone, it's me. Your big brother. Don't worry, nothings going to hurt you now." Pony looked agitated. He craned his head from side to side as if he was trying to find something.

"Whatcha looking for honey?" Soda was really lathering on the pet names as he saw Pony in this state.

"Darry."

"I'm right here."

"Why is everything all blurry? And some of it's black. Who is this?" He nudged Soda, who looked close to tears again.

"Pony, it's me, Soda." Pony shook his head.

"I can't see you." I cursed and called for a doctor who immediately came running in, a couple of interns and a nurse trailing behind him.

"Doc, I don't think he can see too well." The doctor nodded and began examining Pony's eyes. He tisked, and gestured for me to join him outside.

"What is it?"

"It seems that Pony took the drug through his eye. Some hippies do it to get a direct high. It doesn't always cause blindness, but it can. Also, I should warn you that your brother will be...different."

"I know that."

"What do you know?"

"Well, he wont be as smart anymore, and his personality will be different."

"Not only that, but your brother will be classified as er-mentally insane. I am sorry, but there is no recovery after such a huge amount of drugs. God knows what else he consumed, besides acid."

I nodded, a lump in my throat. "He-he doesn't remember Soda, our brother who was in Vietnam. Well, I don't know if he remembers but doesn't believe that he's back, or what, but..." My voice trailed off as the doctor nodded sadly.

"Over time, possibly he will get better. The only thing you can do is make sure he doesn't get any other drugs. Put him under house arrest, whatever, but he already consumed to much. If he overdoses, it could be fatal next time."

I nodded, and the doctor extended his hand, which I shook. "Thanks doc." I managed to choke out, as I stepped back into the room where both of my brothers lay on the bed, on sobbing, the other dead to the world.

* * *

Soda, Steve, Pony and I all sat around the blank t.v. screen, not saying anything, and stealing sidelong glances at each other. We all had the same thing on our minds: Pony and what we were going to do about he situation.

Finally, Soda broke the silence. "The doctors tested him. They said he also took cocaine, heroin, and of course, marijuana. Any more and he would be dead."

I hated how we could talk as if he wasn't even there. I could hold a knife to his throat, and his reaction would be the same as if I remained sitting here. I wasn't even convinced that he could hear me, although the doctor said that there was nothing wrong with his ears.

"Why did he do this?" Steve asked the room at large.

"Because I didn't pay attention to him, because he had to be strong for me when I broke down, because Steve and I were angry at eachother." I listed, probably not even covering a tenth of the reasons that Pony turned to drugs.

"Well we know what the common denominator is." Steve said, glaring pointedly at me. I nodded sadly, and he looked disappointed that I didn't want to fight him.

"Steve, this isn't all Darry's fault. We have to take some blame as well." I laughed and shook my head at Soda.

"No, you really don't. You were halfway across the world, fighting for your life, and Steve was the one that probably kept Pony away from drugs as long as he did." There was another silence, which was shattered by Pony.

He gurgled, almost like a baby would, and muttered something about his brothers. Soda grabbed his hand as the acid trip began to take.

His eyes rolled beneath his closed lids, and his limbs began to jerk uncontrollably. Foam dripped out of Pony's mouth, and Soda calmly wiped it away with his sleeve.

Pony began to scream, and Soda grabbed him, holding him to his chest. Pony's screams were muffled, but didn't really stop all together, although I thought I detected a note of change.

After 10 agonizing minutes of this, Pony suddenly stopped and oped his eyes, crying out one more time when he re-discovered his bad eyesight.

"Soda." He said softly, and began to sob into Soda's shirt. "Don't leave please. I don't want to wake up."

"You aren't dreaming Pone. It's really me."

"I don't believe you."

"I know you don't."

"I wish it were you."

"I wish you believed it was me." Soda retorted, his voice cracking. Pony fell into a light slumber as Soda held him close, a look of lionish protectiveness on his face.

"Soda, do you mind helping me carry him to bed?" Soda nodded, tears falling out of his eyes.

"He's gone Darry. He's gone."

"No he's not. He's right here." Soda shook his head.

"No. His body is here, but my little brother is already dead."


	13. Chapter 13

**Good idea from Dreadfulstar. Thank you guys!**

**So, I have no idea what drugs are like because I don't do them and I don't know anyone who does. This is just what I imagine goes on in a drug addicts head, but it's almost definitely not very accurate.**

**I also don't know the code that drug lords use...I'm just an innocent little child! (jk) sorry for not researching. **

**I don't own the Outsiders**

* * *

I tucked Pony into bed as if he were a little kid again. He was certainly as pale, small and vulnerable as a little kid. Soda climbed in next to him, but didn't put his arm over his little brother.

He slid all the way to the far side of the bed and turned his back to both Pony and I. I went to his side and knelt next to his face.

"Hey bud, what's the problem? Pony needs you."

"My brother is insane Darry. Insane people don't need anyone." There was a pause as I absorbed this cynical view of my happy-go-lucky brother. "Don't you think it would be better if he were just...dead?"

I gasped. "How could you say that Soda? Don't you love your brother?"

"Of course. If you love something, let it go."

"That's a stupid saying." I contradicted. "I love you, but that doesn't mean I have to prove it by _killing _you!" My voice had risen to a harsh whisper.

Soda was silent, and his eyes darted to the ceiling. "Why not?" He finally asked. My mouth dropped open and I stared, wide-eyed at Soda.

"Why-What the hell do you mean?"

"I mean, why is it such a bad thing to kill someone you love? Out of mercy, if they want to die."

"You had better be joking Soda, or I swear I will kick you."

"Not joking Darry." His hardened brown eyes stared directly into mine. "You don't even know how much I wished that I had died in 'Nam. I took every chance. But, I always came out the other side while those around me dropped like flies."

"Shut-up Soda."

"No. Listen to me. My life is _nothing _but misery right now. Pony's is even worse. Both of us are better off dead."

"No you aren't."

"Did I say I was done?" Soda snapped, then took a deep calming breath. "If you were to kill me, I swear I would forever be in your debt."

"You've thought about this?" I saw a glint of _hope _in Soda's eyes when I said this, and this worried me more than anything else.

"Of course. Do it Darry." He closed his eyes and smiled.

"You're an idiot Soda." I growled. "You don't want to die. If you wanted to be, you would be dead. There's a difference between not wanting to live and wanting to die."

"No there isn't."

"Yeah. I don't want to live, but I don't want to die. You are scared of death and _that's _why you actually resorted to asking your brother to kill you."

"I promise you, I do want to die."

"No. Dally wanted to die. He had nothing left, I get that. You just hate your situation. Your back is against a wall, but you aren't cornered. When you've lost everything, _then _you want to die. But that isn't going to happen, because I'm not going to let it, you understand?"

"No."

"You will. Now go to sleep." Soda glared up at me, but didn't speak. He turned away from me, still keeping to the edge of the bed so that he wouldn't have to touch Ponyboy.

"Goodnight. I love you Soda. Things will get better."

Lies, but I didn't care. I kissed Ponyboy who was too tired to scream and shut the door behind me.

* * *

_**Ponyboy POV**_

I was trapped. I was still in there, somewhere far in the back of my mind. But I wasn't in control. A monster was in control, and the monster was hungry.

He moved my limbs silently so that I got out of bed. My subconscious resisted, but the monster was laughed at me weak defense.

Soda didn't even stir as I moved out of the room and down the stairs to the empty and noiseless street. I didn't notice the people that stared at me and parted, as though I were moses walking down the red sea. I stumbled down the ribbon with one goal in mind: Cocaine.

My favorite drug. Dangerous, yes, but my favorite. A drug dealer sought me out, and began to speak in the code that I had become apt at, even in my stupor.

"Kid, need some batteries?"

"Yep." My voice was raspy and I coughed after just the one word. I was sick, but I didn't care.

"What kind?"

"Glue." He beckoned for me to follow down a dark alley, and took out a package that I recognized. I snatched it away from him, and began to run.

"Hey, kid, give that back!" I ran down the deserted alley, which brought me to the park. I figured I was safe, and I sat down underneath a streetlamp to begin to ease my pain.

I felt the relief begin to set in and I sighed as I watched my vision become obscured by screen snow. I couldn't remember anything anymore. I didn't know that I was Ponyboy Curtis, who had two brothers and one remaining friend.

Through my haze, I felt a stab of pain in my arm. I grunted. I wasn't supposed to feel anything when I was on the drug. Maybe it was an impure batch.

Then, all I saw was darkness. And it wasn't the darkness behind closed lids, or even the pitch black of a soundless nights.

It was the kind of impenetrable darkness that was so dark, it could be billions of different colors. It was the darkness of death.

The monster inside me put up one last fight to get the drug, and then died with my body, as I was swallowed by the darkness.

* * *

_**Darry POV**_

I had to get out of the house that morning. I didn't have to work until seven, but by five o'clock, I was out in the brisk cool air, feeling more alive than I had in ages.

I let my mind wander as I instinctively walked towards the park. It was deserted, asides from the hippies that were all completely stoned by now.

One particularly limp hippie lay under a street light that I recognized as the one Dally had died under. He looked worse off then the others, and I felt sadness as I realized how young he was. As I approached him, hoping to at least move him out of the way of foot traffic, I saw that he was dead.

The crimson liquid covering his face and staining his clothes was not some new drug, but blood. I walked across the street to a pay phone and dialed 9-11. I wasn't exactly sure what they could do to help a dead body, but I figured the police should know about this.

"Hell, 9-11, what is your emergency?"

"There's a dead body in the park, East side of town near the Ribbon and church street."

"What are the circumstances of this body?" The operator sounded so clinical, it made my blood run cold.

"Um. He has a bullet in his head. I think he stole some drugs. Looks very young."

"Ok, a police car should be there soon. Please stand by the body."

"Thanks.' I was amazed at how calmly I had handled the situation. It was a dead body for christ's sake! But I felt completely detached from it.

I walked to the body, and noticed that he was a greaser. I braced myself and looked closer, hoping that I didn't know him.

I let out a yell so loud, some of the hippies sleeping on the park benches stirred slightly.

And the only thought racing through my heart, one which I was still trying to wrap my head around, was that my youngest brother, Ponyboy Curtis, was dead.


	14. Chapter 14

**I'm might try to finish this by the new year. I don't know, you guys decide if I should just end it or continue. If you think I should continue, just tell me what you want me to do.**

**I don't own the Outsiders.**

* * *

Pony's funeral was a quiet affair. It still seemed unreal to me that he was dead. That wasn't possible. He should be talking to Johnny, or reading a book, or practicing for track.

His coffin was lowered into the ground. No tears were shed. Steve was too tough, Soda was either too grief stricken or genuinely believed that Pony was happier, and as for me...well, it hadn't really dawned on me.

Steve stepped forward to throw some dirt onto the coffin. "Goodbye buddy. I'll be seeing you. I'll make it up to you."

He stepped back and prodded Soda forward. Soda didn't say anything. He walked confidently to Pony's grave and gently tossed his Tulsa dirt in the hole.

Then it was my turn. I opened up the paper in my hand. I wasn't going to recite nothing gold can Stay, too cliche. Pony had heard it all before. It had been Johnny's last favor.

"Death, be not proud, though some have called thee,

Mighty and dreadful, for, your art not so

For those whom you think you've overthrown

Die not, poor death, for thou can not kill me."

I felt awkward saying the poem. It was the poem that I had said to Pony after our parents death. When he had been crying, and Soda had been unreachable.

One day, he had abruptly said, "Everyday you live, death dies a little." I had been confused, and I still, to this day have no idea what he meant, but Pony and his magical, smart brain understood what he meant, and that was all that mattered.

It didn't matter if we found the person that killed him. That person was long gone, into insanity and greed. It didn't matter how other people handled their grief, or even how I handled my grief.

Nothing mattered, because I was living, and everyday I was conquering death.

* * *

Steve used alcohol as a form of escape. This was similar to what Two-Bit did, except when Steve was drunk, it scared me.

He became angry and was prone to hitting people that were closest to him. I might not have minded too much (let's be honest, Steve and I weren't the best of friends) but he was really messing with Soda.

Soda seemed oddly unaffected by Pony's death, but he did care that his best friend was slowly killing himself.

Whatever people might say, I knew that alcohol was a poison. Every little bit is, but some are more potent than others. Just like real poisons.

The day Steve went blind was the anniversary of Johnny and Dally's deaths. November fourth.

On this day last year, at almost exactly this time, Johnny drew his last breaths, just managing to say "Stay gold" to Pony before leaving us. I suppose they're together now. Pony didn't even have to live a year without his best friend.

And thats when it occured to me how small my little gang was. What was once a happy close knit community was now only three.

And then I thought about how each of my friends had died, in quick succession, following closely after one another. They had sort of caused one another deaths in a way. Not all of them, but some.

Johnny had started it. He had been burned so severly, he was hospitalized and died. Dally couldn't stand it anymore, so he killed himself, or let himself be killed no one was really sure.

Then Two-Bit...I suppose no one can really blame his death on anyone. Maybe god, maybe his own drinking and foolishness.

And then finally Ponyboy, driven to the edge because of all of the death that surrounded him.

It was like we were all dominoes, and once one was tipped over, we were all bound to fall.

I wondered if this pattern would continue.

* * *

Steve went blind because of his own stupidity. He drank moonshine, one day when Soda nor I were around to stop him.

Moonshine is a very potent liquor that isn't technically illegal, but less common the marijuana.

The fact is that even a little bit of moonshine is so intense, it will almost certainly blind you. I'm saying this so matter of factly, because I don't think Steve noticed. Even if he had, he wouldn't care.

He was drifting from us, even Soda. Neither Soda nor I could properly mourn Pony's passing because of the imposing figure on both of our lives. Not that Soda would be in mourning anyways. He was the one who thought about killing Pony, afterall.

Sometimes I wish god or karma or whatever would just give me a break. I know it seems selfish, but it seemed to me as if I was suffering the most. I shouldn't have thought that way: it was wrong.

* * *

_**Steve POV**_

Darry has been real annoying lately. All high an' mighty, more so than usual. I guess because he doesn't feel anything. Because he didn't care about Pony, Dally, Johnny, or Two-Bit. Not one bit.

I cared about them. You think I'm feeling sorry for myself? Hell yeah. I feel sorry for myself. What have I got to live for? Darry? A mentally damaged Soda, my used-to-be best friend?

Oh yeah, Soda and I aren't friends anymore. Nah, he yelled at me somethin' awful for drinkin' that moonshine.

I don't care. Hell, it all sounded like gibberish to me anyway. I was too drunk. You can't even imagine how great it feels to be blind. And that's when I knew I had hit an all time low.

When you are perfectly fine with not being able to see, and you have nothing left to live for, that's when its ok to die.

If I were to commit suicide, I would do it by jumping off a building. Kinnda like sky diving, except no parachute would come out.

All I would see would be blackness, all I could feel would be the cold air of the rushing wind whistling in my ears and then the smell of my own blood, and the sound of rushing death.

It would be blissful. But I wasn't selfish. No, Dally was selfish. He only brought himself out of this terrible place. Darry is selfish, refusing to let Pony go peacefully and painlessly. Soda was selfish, yelling at me instead of trying to make everything better.

But I wasn't selfish. And I was going to prove that in my last act of defiance.


	15. Chapter 15

**Hey guys! Very close to being done with this story. PLEASE review! It makes my day/life so much better:))**

**I don't own the Outsiders.**

* * *

_**Steve**__**POV**_

I called Soda from the DX. He agreed to see me, only because I promised him that I wasn't drunk.

Not the complete truth, but not a blatant lie either. I was a little bit tipsy, but still more sober than I had been in weeks. Ever since Pony...this was the problem with sobriety; I could remember things, and that was something I didn't want.

Soda arrived, his footsteps hesitant. I could remember, distantly a time when he was the only person in the world that I cared about, before he was drafted, before Two-Bit got sick. Before Ponyboy died.

I didn't really feel anything now. Well, not towards Soda. The only person I was really close to now was dead. And Two-Bit, who had always been such a good friend. And Mr. and , who were just about the closest thing I had to parents.

"Soda." I acknowledged, nodding in his direction. Or at least where I thought he was.

"Steve." There was an awkward pause that seemed magnified due to my increased sense of hearing. "So, are you really blind? Darry told me."

I nodded. Soda had started out real worried like about me. But as time wore on, he realized it was hopeless. "Yeah, I really am blind. Not that you really care." This conversation wasn't going the way I hoped. Whatever. I could be patient.

"I care. You are my best friend."

"Was. I was your best friend, and you were mine. But not anymore." I wished I could see his face in that moment. The look on it would have been priceless.

I felt a hand on my shoulder, and I almost jumped. "Is this because I didn't stop you from drinking that moonshine? Look, I'm sorry, but I was tired of hanging around you when you were drunk, can we just forget about that?"

"That's not why I hate you, although you sound really sincere when you say 'can we just forget about you going blind?''

"Steve-"

"I can't SEE, Soda! Do you know how hard that is? No. So don't even try." I took a deep breath. I hadn't meant to get angry.

"Steve." I felt arms wrap around me, and all I wanted to do was collapse into them and sob like I had after Mr. and Mrs. Curtis had died. Soda didn't cry then. He just held me and was strong for me because he knew it was hard. Soda was always so strong...

I broke out of my thoughts and as much as I hated to do it, I began to cry. "It's ok Steve."

"Soda, I brought you here because...I-I..."

"You can tell me Steve. I don't care if I'm your best friend, but right now, you're my best and my only friend."

"I was going to kill you."

* * *

_**Soda POV**_

When Steve said that he was going to kill me, my first instinct was to laugh. In fact, that's often my first instinct. But Steve was acting so serious, so grave, that I knew he actually had wanted to kill me. Maybe still did.

"Steve, when you say 'going to kill me...' Is that a metaphor?" Steve shook his head, still sobbing against my chest.

"Well then, I say full Steam ahead with your plan."

Steve grinned at me. "No. I couldn't do that to you. Not anymore."

"Steve, you think I want to live? The only reason I'm still alive is because I'm scared to pull the trigger."

Steve looked at my. Well, slightly to the left of me, but pretty close. "I'm glad that we're best friends."

"Same." I breathed. If I were honest with myself, I would know that I was terrified. Scared of death, scared of hell, scared of what my dead family would say. Scared of how my alive family would take it.

I loved Darrel. Truly, but he was all I had left, and I wasn't ok with that. I know, it's selfish.

I led Steve to the car, and without speaking, we began to drive.

"Soda?" Steve asked, sounding uncannily like Pony.

"Yeah?"

"What do you think happens when you die?" I thought about it for a minute, then began to speak.

"Well, I think its like earth, only you get everything you've ever wished for, and you have everyone that you love with you, alive or dead."

"That's not possible. People who are alive are in this world, and people who are dead are in another. They don't mix."

"But I want them to."

"So?"

"So, in heaven, I get everything I wish for." Steve seemed to think for a second.

"Sodapop Patrick Curtis, I like your heaven."

* * *

_**Darry POV**_

I was almost asleep when the phone rang. I hadn't been sleeping great because Steve was often here, or Soda would wake up screaming. Soda never told Pony this, but they both needed each other, and in the same way; to keep the nightmares away.

"Hello?" I said groggily, after tripping my way down the hall and to the phone.

"Hello, this is Mercy's hospital, we are calling to inform Darrel Curtis that his brother and Steve Randle were picked up at the Sagamore Bridge. Please come to the hospital to identify the body, and speak to the doctor and claim the body."

The line went dead, and the only sound was the flatline of the phone and the pumping of blood in my ears.

The body...

* * *

I bared into the hospital in a way that my friend Dally would have been proud of. Grabbing the first doctor I could find, I screamed at him to tell me where two boys, one alive, one dead might be. He guided me to a morgue.

The morgue had creepy green light sort of thing, and dead bodies lined the walls. Some were sliced open, and I tried not to gag at the smell and the sight.

The doctor brought me to a cupboard marked "E120." He pulled open the drawer, and I gasped at the sight of the dead body.

"No." I whispered, and then I screamed it to the heavens.

_This _was worse than death.


	16. Chapter 16

**Hello! We are getting there people! Patience is a virtue. (so is tenacity!)**

**I don't own the Outsiders.**

* * *

_**Darry POV**_

I stood over his bed side. my shadow looming on the wall seemed to mock me. How could I be so tall, so burly in reality when inside I felt so small? What did I have left?

Why wouldn't I just give up like Soda and Steve?

It was like when you're desperately tired, but when you close you eyes, you find that you can't go to sleep.

I was _tired _of living, of being...Darry. But I was cursed, not able to "fall asleep."

I looked down at my brother. He looked like he was just asleep, just as Steve had looked. Just as Dally, Johnny, Two-Bit, Mom, Dad, and Pony had looked.

Why was I living? I had lost everything?

A doctor came in, and the snap of the door broke my thoughts so that they shattered and scattered across my head, just like the pieces of my broken heart.

"Darrel?" The doctor asked. He was a slim and muscled man, but the most surprising thing about him was that he was black. I suppose he took care of the people who didn't have health insurance and weren't rich, just because of this fact.

"Yes. You can call my Darry." He nodded. His name tag read 'Dr. F.P. Morrison.'

"Darry, was Steve a friend of yours?"

I had tried not to think about Steve. It isn't worth crying about, I told myself.

The other voice in my head argued. 'What is worth crying over, huh Darrel? Not your parents death? The death of all of your friends? Not even the death of your brother?"

"Yes, Steve was...a really good friend of mine." My voice broke, and the doctor moved to pat my shoulder, then glanced at me, as if asking my permission.

This made my blood boil. Just because his skin wasn't like mine, this meant that he couldn't touch me without worrying about a law suit.

I nodded, and he clapped me on the shoulder. "Doctor, I-I just need to know about my brother."

"Ok. But before I tell you, do you have any other family that should hear this? Parents? Younger siblings? Unless you don't think they can handle the news."

"We don't have parents, anymore. And our little brother...h-he just died." Dr. Morrison looked genuinly saddened by the news, and he clapped me on the shoulder again.

"I'm sorry son. Strictly, as a doctor, I'm not supposed to do this, but if you have any close friends that you think should know..."

His voice trailed off.

And that's when it happened. The tears actually overflowed. The prickling started, and then I made some strange noises that I don't think words can describe.

I didn't have time to be embarrassed that there was a complete stranger in the room. "No." I sobbed out. "I used to have two parents and six amazing friends. All like brother to me. I'm sorry." I muttered, attempting to wipe the tears. "I swear, I never cry. I haven't cried this entire time. B-but, Soda is all I have left. Steve is dead, everyone I have ever loved is dead."

Dr. Morrison looked shocked, and I wasn't sure if he believed me. Maybe he just thought that it was a sob story. But I guess it was a good one. "Darry, I'm sorry."

I took a deep breath. "Ok. What do you have to say about Soda?"

"He is...Are you sure your fit to hear this."

"No, probably not, but that doesn't really matter, not now at least. It won't change anything."

"If your sure. Your brother is in a coma. I'm sorry, but...it doesn't look like he'll ever wake up."

* * *

I never thought that there would be a price too high for my brothers life. But, as I signed the death forms, sobs racking my body making my writing unintelligible, I knew I had finally found it.

One hundred thousand dollars. Thats what it would take to keep my brother in his coma for the rest of his life.

I didn't have nearly enough.

Tears spilled onto the paper, and the receptionist gave me a disgusted look. "You know that you're killing your own brother. It isn't even legal to take someone off life support in some places."

I completely broke down. My cries echoed down the hall, and the nurse looked more scared than appalled now.

"I'm sorry Soda. Please forgive me." I whispered, and the foreign hand that was attached to my body signed the name "Darrel Curtis." The name that no longer meant anything.

"God, please!" I begged, not really sure what I was asking for. People stared at me rudely, but I didn't care.

Finally, Dr. Morrison came over to my huddled form, and gently pulled me away to my brothers hospital room.

I could barely look at Soda. He looked awful. The car that they had driven purposefully into a wall was just scrap metal now, but Soda didn't look much better.

"Darry, this is the right thing to do. I promise you, it is. From what you said, Soda wasn't happy. A lot of his family is gone, he was just sad."

"He wasn't just sad. He was depressed." I thought for a moment. "I lost my brother over a year ago." The doctor looked confused.

"But you said Pony died only a few weeks ago." It was strange to hear Pony's name spoken so flippantly by this stranger.

"Yes, Ponyboy Michael Curtis died a few weeks ago. But Soda left me more than a year ago. When he went to Vietnam." I tried for a smile, although there was nothing to be happy about. "I told him I loved him before he left, and he wouldn't-couldn't-say it back to me."

I took a deep breath. "Can I please have a favor?"

"Darry, I'm sorry, but the hospital can't pay for his life support-"

"I don't need them to. I can pay."

"But you already signed the forms-"

"The favor is that I want just one night to be with him. Please, just let me stay here with him tonight. I can pay his life support for one night. I just...need a few hours to say goodbye. Please."

Morrison struggled for a moment, then nodded. "That's fine Darry. I'll l-leave you two alone."

"Dr?" I asked as he turned to leave.

"Yes Darry?"

"Thank you. Thank you so much for trying to help him. Don't beat yourself up about this."

He smiled wryly at me. "Strictly speaking, as your doctor, I'm not supposed to say this, but as your friend I feel comfortable. I am going to beat myself up about this, and if you ever need someone to talk things over with, or just have a beer and some light conversation, give me a call."

Its strange having someone you barely know call you a friend and give you their phone number. Especially if you only knew the person under professional circumstances.

But I knew I would need someone to talk things over.

When you have nothing left, you make more things.


End file.
